Complicated Times
by musical geek
Summary: Sequel to "The Island." Life after the island is just starting to settle down for the Matthews, John, Shawn, Topanga, and Dani. Things are about as normal as they can get-that is until Shawn's half-brother Jack shows up, Cory coerces Eric to move out of the house and in with Jack, and John suddenly starts getting forgetful and it seems Dani might have something to do with it.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

"Isn't part of college supposed to be—oh, I don't know—moving out?" Cory's raised voice drifted down the stairs.

"Yes. Yes it is," came Eric's response. "But being stuck on a deserted island with no postal service or anything kind of ruined my chances of getting housing. Tough luck, Cor. You'll just have to wait another year to have the room to yourself."

"No, Eric. I've waited sixteen and a half years. That's enough."

Alan rubbed his temples. The smell of his coffee was heaven. As amazing as it was, though, he could already tell it just wouldn't be strong enough for him this morning. The two boys had just made it down the steps and were on their way over to join him.

He thanked Amy when she set a plate of breakfast in front of him. She joined him at the table after setting all of the plates out. That's one thing that had changed. They had been so used to eating every meal together when they were stuck on the island that the habit just stuck once they returned. He knew Amy tried to get them to do that for years. It's just sad it took going through everything they did for it to actually happen.

"Morning mom, morning daddy," Morgan said. Alan leaned over to return her brief hug before going back to his coffee.

"So?" Eric said. "Morgan had her own room for over ten years and now she has to share."

"Yeah, but Dani's cool. I'd want the room to myself too if I had to live with either of you two losers," Morgan said.

Eric gave a mock laugh. Cory gave an indignant "hey."

"Where is Dani?" Amy asked.

Morgan shrugged. "She slept in, so she's running late. Should be down soon."

Dani, the teen who had been stuck on the island with them as well, had come to live with them once they got home. She had grown up in the foster care system. Her latest foster parent screw-ups—Gary and Ellie Wilson—were the ones responsible for robbing Alan and his family and then causing the plane to crash. Alan and Amy hadn't officially adopted her, not yet anyways. The teen insisted they wait to see how things went before they made any permanent commitments. She was probably still afraid they would change their minds about wanting her there. For as sure as she was when dealing with stressful situations that most other people would struggle to deal with, she was really insecure when it came to her abilities.

It was still an adjustment to get used to the fact supernatural things existed. Dani was living proof they did. Once events on the island forced the girl to stop hiding all her secrets, they found out she was telekinetic, telepathic, and clairvoyant. Alan still wasn't sure what he thought about all of that, but Dani was still just a kid. She just happened to have these special abilities most people didn't.

Of course, she had also hinted there was more to her secret than anyone of them knew yet. He really wasn't sure what to think about that. He was almost afraid to find out.

"Can't you rent an apartment or something?" Cory asked Eric.

"I dunno." Eric shrugged. "I figured I could just stay here for now. Get in on the housing stuff next year."

Alan said, "Of course. You'll always have a place here with us," at the same time Amy said, "I think renting an apartment sounds like a great idea." The two looked at one another. He could already feel the discussion coming on later. The coffee definitely wasn't strong enough.

Dani slid into the final seat at the table, her hand was covering her mouth in a futile attempt to hide a big yawn.

"Honey, you look exhausted," Amy said.

A look was shared between Morgan and Dani. Wonder what that was about.

"I was up late studying last night. Big test today," Dani said.

"No, there's not," Cory said. "We have pretty much all the same classes. I think I would know."

"It's the final test for me to pass my sophomore year and officially become a junior."

George had been nice enough to work something out with her to allow her to continue on in her education rather than repeat her whole sophomore year. She had missed the last few months of it thanks to the Wilsons. She just had some extra work and exams to do.

"That's good. Let us know how it goes," Amy said.

"I thought you already finished that." Cory's brow was scrunched up.

Morgan darted another look over at Dani. The other girl didn't return it this time.

"_Almost_ finished it," Dani corrected.

Alan was almost tempted to ask what all the looks between Morgan and Dani were about, but he didn't have the patience to work through all the different variations of "It's complicated" that were bound to come up—that's if Dani even backed down enough to admit there actually was something to those looks. He'd have a better chance of getting a straight answer out of Morgan. That answer would undoubtedly just lead to more questions only Dani could answer, though.

A honk sounded from outside.

Morgan jumped up out of her seat. "Thanks for breakfast. Gotta go." She sped out the door, barely even stopping to grab her backpack on the way.

Eric pushed his chair away from the table. "I should head out too. Class started about—eh—ten minutes ago."

"Eric," both Alan and Amy scolded.

"What? It's a general course. The teacher doesn't care. Most people don't even bother to show up at all," he said while backing up towards the door. "See ya."

Alan shook his head at the door after Eric closed it. Sometimes he really worried about him.

Both Cory and Dani said their thanks before heading out the door as well.

Alan sipped his coffee.

They were all still adjusting to life after the island. It was so easy to just fall back into their old routines once they returned home, but it all felt different . . . strange. After having to search for food and water, catch fish, search for edible plant life, prepare everything from scratch and work hard for everything, it was weird to be able to just go to a store or a restaurant and already have a good bit, if not all, of the work done for them. After sleeping on the hard ground under the stars every night with the sound of the waves and wildlife around them, the soft mattress, pillows, and blankets they had with the constant hum of everything electronic in the background were so foreign. Then, of course, compared to being chased, caught, shot at, and held hostage—not to mention fighting their captors and getting away—working at a wilderness store was just so dull in comparison. He would gladly take dull over what they went through this past summer, though. He never wanted to deal with anything like that ever again.

It did change how he handled things at the store, though. Before he was content to just run the store, sell the products, and merely help his customers find the products that best suited their needs. He never gave any consideration to how his customers could handle survival situations that could arise out in the wild—not until he and his family, both biological and extended, were thrown into a survival situation and had no clue how to handle it. One of the first orders of business he took care of when he went back to work was to use some of the money left over from the lottery to start up a survival training program at the store. He required all of his employees to attend at least one session each month, and highly recommended these classes to all of his customers at a discounted rate. He wanted to make it free of charge. Business didn't really allow for that, though.

As for the lottery money, the Wilsons had only been able to take what everyone had in their wallets on the plane, and since their getaway boat had been shipwrecked on the island too, the credit and bank cards really didn't do them any good. Alan reported his cards as stolen as soon as they returned home. Gary Wilson had died on the island, and Ellie Wilson was put away in prison for a long time once the long list of her crimes happened to make it into the police's hands. The prison sentence time for each of the crimes stacked up incredibly high to the point where it was unlikely she would see the light of day outside of the prison ever again.

As a result, they still had a considerable amount of money left over from their multimillion dollar winning lottery ticket. None of them wanted any parts of it, though. Not after what happened. They'd be fools to not make use of some of it, but they didn't want to keep excessive amounts of it around. They kept some money for their kids' college funds and to cover the extra expenses they would have with Dani living with them. Some more of it went towards the survival training program he started at the wilderness store, another chunk went to John and Shawn to help pay for Shawn's college expenses when that time came and also to help them buy a house or pay the rent—whatever they decided to do when they moved—and the rest went to various charities, both well-known and not-so-well-known.

Amy's sigh from beside him jerked Alan out of his thoughts.

"I don't want Eric to move out either," she said, "especially after what we went through this summer, but if he doesn't move out, he'll never grow up."

"Does it have to be now? You heard him. He just wants to wait till next year. Then he'll move out," Alan said.

"And then next year, he will just find another excuse to stay here."

Alan sighed. He knew she was right, even if he didn't want to admit it.

"It will be easier if he leaves now. The longer he keeps trying to prolong living here, the harder it will be when he does leave," Amy said.

Sometimes he hated when his wife was right.

Alan rubbed his temple and took a large gulp of his coffee. He had to be at the store soon. The rest of this talk could wait till later. He leaned over to kiss his wife. "Thanks for breakfast, honey. Delicious as always."

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Shawn jotted down some of the thoughts running through his head about the island—tried to make it look like he was taking notes on John's lecture. John hadn't called him out on it, so it seemed like he was succeeding. He really didn't want to think about the island or that wannabe-_Indiana-Jones_-ancient-structure place or anything surrounding any of that. He couldn't help it, though. Flashbacks of what he went through—the plane crash, the hostage situation leading up to the crash and then again later after they were caught on the island, and the insane quest-like adventure to get to that urn—would hit him at the most random times—mostly of the insane quest-like adventure. All he could do is jot down his thoughts. Try to turn them into something creative. That's the only way he was able to get them out of his head.

He guessed the added bonus of dealing with it this way was that it made it look like he was actually paying attention in class. All he had to do was glance up at the front of the room every now and then.

He caught John's eye when he glanced up again. All it took was that one look for Shawn to be able to tell he was busted. John wasn't buying it. Damn. Oh well. John knew he was struggling to deal with everything that happened. They'd talked about it. He didn't think he'd be in too much trouble over this once he told him what he was doing and why. John always got a really uncomfortable look on his face anytime Shawn talked about the urn-hunt.

"Uh, Mr. Turner," Cory's voice rang out. "We already did this assignment. In seventh grade."

"_Auto_-biography, Matthews. As in, you write about your own life rather than someone else's," John said. "I'm not looking for full life stories here, just pick some meaningful time in your life and write about it."

The bell rang.

Shawn shoved his poetry notebook and his class notebook in his bag.

"Ten pages. Due this Friday," Mr. Turner yelled over the talking.

Shawn slung his backpack over his one shoulder and slipped out the classroom door before John could stop him. He didn't want to talk right now.

"You want to know what I'm going to write about?" Cory asked him. "Go ahead. Ask." He sounded irritated.

"Okay, Cor." Shawn shoved his English stuff in his locker, pulled his science crap out and crammed it into his bag. "What are you going to write about?"

"I'm going to write about the glorious day I get my own room 'cause Eric moves out." His voice was thick with sarcasm. "Oh, wait a minute. That's not happening. 'Cause you see, my brother decided he wants to wait until next year to get the full college experience. What gives?"

Shawn slammed the locker door shut and put the lock back on. He shrugged. "Maybe he just needs something familiar after, you know, this summer. What happened and all." That's what he and John had decided. They would still need to find a bigger, better place for the two of them to live, but not yet. Their rat-hole apartment was practically heaven to them after everything. They could move after they adjusted back to life pre-island. Well, it was probably more life post-island, but whatever.

"I get that, but I want my own room now," Cory complained. "He's already been there a year longer than he was supposed to be and dad will let him stay forever, if he wants to."

Shawn wanted to be able to sympathize with Cory, but family staying around too long had never been a problem for him. He wished it was, because then it would mean they actually stuck around. I mean, yeah, he had John and the Matthews and all, and they were great and he in many ways considered them to be more his family than those related to him by blood were, but it wasn't really the same as having actual blood relatives around.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_. Any dialogue you recognize from season 5 episode 1 "Brothers" and episode 2 "Boy Meets Real World" belongs to the writers Matthew Nelson, Sally Stiner, and Bob Tischler.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"What you need is for some college guy to walk in, say he's new in town and is looking for roommates," Topanga said.

Cory smiled at her from across the greasy table at Chubby's. "If you love me, you will make that happen."

Eric was still stubbornly refusing to leave. His parents seemed split on what to do about it, though his dad seemed to be slowly caving in to his mom. Cory had tried everything. He tried reasoning with his brother. He tried actually physically taking him out to look at apartments. He tried searching the classifieds and internet ads and everything to come up with some solution. Nothing. That's all he got from all that effort. Nothing.

"Hi, everyone," a male voice said from behind Cory. He turned around to look. The man looked like he was around Eric's age, had brown hair, brown eyes, and wore a baggy blue and white plaid shirt over a pair of jeans. "I just started college, I'm new in town, and I'm looking for roommates."

Cory looked back at Topanga, mouth open. Was there something Topanga wasn't telling him? Had she somehow developed some special powers like Dani? He wanted to ask, but he couldn't talk about that stuff here.

Topanga just smiled. "I heard him talking outside. I do love you, though."

Cory relaxed. Then he felt guilty. Was it wrong to be happy his girlfriend was normal? He didn't think any less of Dani that she wasn't, but . . . . Cory shook his head.

Fate had sent him a major gift here. He would be an idiot not to look into this option for Eric moving out. He jumped out of his chair and rushed over to the college student. "Hi, I'm Cory."

"Jack," the guy said, holding out his hand to shake.

Cory took the man's hand and shook it eagerly. "What college do you go to?"

"Pennbrook."

Perfect! Same college as Eric. "Is there a view?"

"A great view. There's a balcony overlooking the river."

"Yay," Cory said. He was practically jumping for joy on the inside. Okay, maybe a little on the outside too. Eric turned down every place they saw because he wanted a place with an ocean view. Knowing Eric, he wouldn't know the difference between ocean view and river view. This was starting to sound almost too good to be true. "Do I have the perfect roommate for you."

Jack backed away from him a little bit. "It's not you, is it?"

"No, it's my brother Eric." Cory pulled out his wallet and opened it up to find the picture he always kept in there.

"That's so cute," Topanga said from right behind him. "You keep a picture of your brother in your wallet. Are there any pictures of me in there?"

Cory winced internally. Oops. "There will be." He handed the photo over to Jack.

Jack stared at the picture for a while. "Nice looking guy. Easy on the eyes. Might be competition for the ladies."

Uh oh. _Please don't back out. Please don't back out. Please—_

Jack got a big smile on his face. "Nah," he dismissed. He then grabbed a scrap piece of paper and a pen and started jotting something down.

Cory looked at the paper as soon as Jack handed it over to him. It was an address. _Yay!_ Jack was looking at him with his eyebrows raised. Did Cory say that out loud again? Oops. The guy must think he's a little crazy. "I'll give this to Eric. Hopefully he'll stop by sometime to check it out."

"What are you doing here?" Shawn's angry voice came from behind him. Jack had a look of surprise on his face.

Oh no. No. No no no no. Cory turned towards his best friend. "Shawn, I don't care who this man is to you or what he's done. He is going to be my brother's roommate, so please just—"

"He's my brother."

"What?" Cory burst out.

"Half-brother," Shawn said. "Same dad, different moms."

"Another one?" Cory couldn't help but ask, remembering the last time he dealt with this shocking revelation back at the trailer park with a very different guy than this Jack.

"Dad got around." Shawn shrugged, not taking his eyes off his newly-revealed half-brother. "His mom ran out on my dad for some rich guy and his money."

"It wasn't like that," Jack said.

Shawn's jaw looked really tight. "Then what was it like, huh?" He was breathing a little heavier. "You and your mom walked out on him and shut me out of your lives just like everyone else in _my _family. The way I see it, we're not related at all. Never have been." Shawn spun around and stormed off.

"Shawn, wait," Jack said, looking hurt and concerned. Shawn kept on walking.

Cory shared a look with Topanga before following after his friend. He had to jog a bit to catch up with him, and even then he didn't catch up until they were outside. "Shawn, hold up a minute."

Shawn stopped and slowly turned back around towards him. He still looked really angry and hurt.

"What was that back there?" Cory asked.

"Just what I said. He and his gold digger mother bailed on us. Just like my mom. Just like my dad. It's the same story everywhere. Must be a Hunter trait."

"You heard him back there, though, didn't you? He said it wasn't like that. Why not try to get to know him?"

"I did try—as soon as I found out I had a brother, I tried reaching out to get to know him. He just blew me off. The only reason I even know what he looks like is because I guess his mom felt obligated to send pictures of him to dad every once in a while."

"Maybe things are different now," Cory tried.

"Just let it go, Cor. I'm done with this." Shawn turned around and left.

Cory stood there watching him go for a while. He knew family was a sore subject for Shawn. Always had been since his mom took off with their trailer and then his dad took off after her. Now some other family member comes around and Shawn wants nothing to do with him? It didn't make sense. Well, yeah, Shawn had been burned by family members a lot these past few years, but still.

He sighed and went back into Chubby's. He felt bad about the whole thing with Shawn, but he hoped it would still work out for Eric to room with this guy.

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Shawn opened his apartment door in rush and practically slammed the door behind him. Who the hell did Jack think he is—just waltzing back here after all these years? He ran his hand through his hair and went straight for the couch. He plopped down and pulled his backpack over from the side to pull his poetry book out, only dimly realizing John was sitting right next to him. He could almost feel his guardian's gaze.

"Everything okay?" John's slightly sarcastic tone washed over him.

"I don't want to talk about it," Shawn said.

"Well, if you change your mind, I'm—"

"I said I don't want to talk about it." Shawn opened his poetry book to the next blank page. Now where was his damn pen? Before he could rummage through his backpack again, he saw John holding one out to him out of the corner of his eye. He didn't even look over at him before snatching it out of his hand and muttering a quick "thanks."

The words just started pouring out on the page. He didn't even have to try to force it. It all just spilled out. All his hurt, all his anger, all his abandonment issues that he thought his stability with John had helped him get over came rushing right back.

He felt John's hand on his shoulder. It gave a light squeeze before he felt it leave his shoulder. The cushion seemed to dip down a bit further before raising up. Shawn didn't look up to see where John went. Knowing the man, it was probably only to the kitchen so he could still keep an eye on Shawn and be there in case he changed his mind and wanted to talk.

Shawn's pen faltered on the page for a second. Was he being ungrateful here? Yes, his own family all flaked out on him, but here was this man who agreed to take him in even though he didn't have to. This man who was always there for him when he needed a parent, even if he didn't think he did.

It didn't change the facts though. He was unbelievably thankful for John. He appreciated everything his guardian had done for him, but it still stung that his own family wouldn't do the same.

The words kept flowing. They didn't stop for almost an hour.

Predictably, John was over by the kitchen island with his teaching planner in front of him. Shawn caught him staring at him when he looked up. He found he didn't mind, though. It was nice to know _someone _cared.

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Eric looked around the apartment. He had to admit it was nice. It was a bit empty—not really any furniture or anything, but it was a nice open setup. The bedroom he would have was a decent size. There was a nice balcony with a waterfront view.

It was funny. After being stranded on the island, he would have thought he wouldn't want anything to do with the ocean again ever. He had just told Cory that's what he wanted 'cause he didn't think they would find a place like that in Philly. Looking at it now, though, he had to admit it was still a nice view—almost calming in a weird and totally not normal way. It was like this reminder of what he and his family went through and how despite everything, they all made it back. College, or even moving out of his parents house, really shouldn't be even close to as bad as all that. He didn't have anything to worry about. He would be fine, right?

He inspected the place closer than he normally would, trying to find any fault. He couldn't find one.

He turned back to the guy Cory was trying to get him to room with—Jack, was it? The guy awkwardly stood in the middle of the place, looking around. Cory stood right next to him rambling on about something or other. Eric had tuned him out seconds after walking through the door. He loved his little bro. He really did, but he could be _really_ annoying sometimes.

"Nice place," Eric reluctantly admitted as he went over to Jack.

"I got lucky. This was the last one left in the building that hadn't been leased yet. The college is just down the block. So are a bunch of clubs and restaurants. Rent is about $900 a month total. I'm not sure how much it will be each—depends on whether it's split two or three ways," Jack said. He seemed like a sensible guy.

Eric wouldn't have to worry too much about the rent. His college fund included housing money, so he was most, if not all, of the way covered. He glanced around the place again. Was he really ready to do this? He knew he should be, but . . . .

"You smoke?" Jack asked.

"No, you?" Eric asked.

"No."

Eric nodded his head, not sure what else to do. What else were potential roommates supposed to get out of the way before agreeing to room together? He just blurted the first thing to come to mind. "You like pets?"

"No. I have a hard enough time keeping track of myself." Jack laughed.

Eric could say the same about himself.

"You?" Jack asked.

"No, but I've got three kids, though," Eric joked. Cory said something. Not sure what. He should probably stop tuning him out.

"Favorite color on three," Jack said.

"One, two, three . . . blue," they both said.

Jack patted him on the shoulder before walking past him and up the steps to the next landing.

Eric knew he wasn't the brightest person in the world, but he wasn't an idiot. Well, not _that_ much of an idiot. He knew they could get along—that this could work. He knew chances were he wouldn't find something this great again. He just—he didn't know. After everything that happened this summer, he wasn't sure he was ready to move out. Hell, even if this summer had been the usual uneventful lame . . . thing that it usually was, he wasn't sure if he would be ready.

"I don't like him," he said before leaving the apartment, still tuning Cory out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_ or _Annie_. Any dialogue you recognize from _Boy Meets World_ season 5 episode 1 ("Brothers") belongs to the writer Matthew Nelson.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Alan broke out of his daze when he noticed another hand lift the front pages of his book up to see the cover. His wife looked amused.

"A comic book, Alan?" Amy said, taking the seat next to him. "Is this some kind of midlife crisis thing?"

"No," he said, sheepish. "It's research." He closed the book, took a quick glance around the kitchen to make sure they were alone and lowered his voice. "We've got a super-powered teen living with us now. Aren't you the least bit worried about how we're going to handle any supernatural problems that come up with her?"

Amy sighed. "Yes. I worry about how we'll handle any problems she has just like I worry about how we'll handle anything that comes up with our other kids, but do you really think _comic books_ will help?"

"Well, it certainly can't hurt."

Amy grabbed the comic book and flipped it open. "Yes, I see how you can get a lot of great advice out of 'Bam,' 'Pow,' and 'Kaboom.'"

Alan leaned over to see what Amy was looking at. It was a page with a bunch of fight sequence pictures with nothing but those exclamations for words. "Well, that's a bad example. There is good advice in there. You just have to look for it." He pulled the book back away from his wife.

"Yeah? Name one thing."

"Well . . ." Alan drug out. "Uh, with great power comes great responsibility."

Amy let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "You needed a comic book to tell you that?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Alan," Amy said, "we'll figure things out as they come with her the same as we've always done with Eric, Cory, and Morgan. We never turned to parenting books for them. They seem to be turning out okay."

"They also aren't likely to try to be superheroes—and actually succeed in being them. You can't tell me you haven't worried about that too."

Amy looked down, rested her arms on the table, and leaned forward. "Of course I have. It wouldn't surprise me if she _does_ try the hero thing someday." She turned her head and looked over towards the steps leading upstairs. "It wouldn't surprise me if she already _has_."

She certainly already had the hero complex thing going—that was for sure. Back on the island, she never shied away from dangerous situations. In fact, she always tried to step up and take charge no matter how much he or any of the others tried to keep her from doing so. Not to mention that whole 'Temple of Doom' incident . . . . Dani had admitted afterwards that she came close to letting herself get killed on purpose in some backwards attempt at keeping the world safe from the effects of some mythical urn. Alan shook his head at how crazy all of that sounded.

"What if she still is?" Alan thought back to how tired Dani had seemed lately and how Morgan would try to share a look with the teen any time the subject came up, though she always backed whatever Dani said. He idly played with the pages of the comic book. "What do you think we should do about it?"

Amy put her head in her hand, eyes lowered to the table. "I don't think there's anything we _can_ do. Just hope we're wrong, keep reminding her that we're here when she's ready to talk about . . . everything, and hope that someday she'll trust us enough to tell us."

Alan nodded. "Think she ever will?"

"I don't know."

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John Turner sat at his kitchen island with his red pen in one hand and a pile of students' autobiography assignments in front of him. It was mostly all pretty predictable. There were a lot of papers about playing sports or winning tournaments and whatnot. There was the occasional essay about the most influential person in the students' lives—some of them very moving and meaningful, though completely missing the point of the assignment.

He didn't know what to expect from the one in front of him now, though. It was Dani's. With as secretive as she always was—admittedly understandable given what he did know about her—he had to admit he was curious what she would write about.

_Dani Riddel_

_Mr. Turner  
>English III<em>

_October 13, 1995_

_My Life_

_I grew up in a group home with a bunch of other kids who all didn't have parents at all or whose parents either were unable to take care of them or didn't want them. It never really mattered what the circumstances were, it was always tough because you didn't belong anywhere._

_The woman who ran the place, Miss Houlihan, didn't even really like kids either. She was there because it was her job. She was a bitter middle-aged woman, single all her life. She almost made the most depressed of us kids seem like little rays of sunshine. Her temper flared often. She wasn't fair. We knew not to play around when she was within sight or earshot. There wasn't a lot of money to run the place, so she couldn't hire a janitor. We did all the cleaning ourselves. We sang songs a lot to try and help pass the time and make the cleaning not so bad. Sometimes it was even like we had our own choreographed cleaning routine going. It even rubbed off on Miss Houlihan after a while. I heard her burst out into her own songs or adding her own little asides to ours. _

_I had some great friends there. The best, though, was a stray dog I found. He was so friendly. I almost lost him when some lady who worked for some rich guy came in, said she wanted to take an orphan home to the rich guy for a publicity stunt. She chose me. I had to beg to be able to take Sammy—that was my dog's name—with me. _

John frowned. There was something about all of this that just seemed so familiar—and he knew Dani never talked about anything like this before. He read on.

Names like Mr. Roger "Rooster" Houlihan, Miss Laura St. Paul, and "Daddy" Warcash jumped out at him. His personal favorite, though, was when she went on about her favorite song to sing—a song about how no matter how bad things are right now, next week will be better.

He was almost surprised she didn't call her essay "Little Orphan Dani."

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"You and Jack are perfect roommates for one another. Why do you have to be so difficult about this?" Cory yelled.

"Hello," Eric mockingly said. "I think I would know who I can get along with, thank you. I don't like this Jack guy. We're nothing alike." He headed straight for his bedroom door. Maybe if he left the room, Cory would leave him alone. He knew it wasn't likely. Cory was like a dog with a bone. He never wanted to let it go.

"Nothing alike?" And there was Cory following. Of course he was. "Eric, neither of you smoke or like pets. You both go to Pennbrook. What else is there?"

He took the steps two at a time. "Gee, I don't know Cor. Maybe a lot?"

"You haven't even given him a chance. I don't get it. Why doesn't anyone want to give him a chance?"

Eric paused at the bottom of the steps in the living room. "Who else doesn't want to give him a chance?"

"Shawn," Cory said. "Apparently they're half-brothers or something, and Shawn doesn't even want to get to know him."

"Okay, so let me get this straight . . . . Your own best friend doesn't like this guy—and they're family even—yet you think I should give him a chance?" Eric shook his head before heading over to the chair. "Maybe the problem isn't with us. It's him."

"No, I think the problem is that you just don't want to move out, so you're coming up with any excuse you can think of to avoid having to do that. You're in college, Eric. You're supposed to leave," Cory yelled.

"And I'm supposed to have a brother who's not trying to get rid of me," Eric yelled back.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't be trying to get rid of you if you would just—"

"Cory, Eric, stop it," their mom said from the kitchen doorway. Both her and their dad came out to join them.

"Cory, go to your room," their dad said.

"But, dad—"

"Go."

Eric and Cory glared at one another before Cory listened and went back up the stairs.

"Sit," his mom said.

Eric sighed before plopping down in the chair. His parents sat together on the couch.

"Your father and I have been talking a lot about this." She looked over at his dad.

His dad looked down with a solemn look on his face. "You have one week to find a place and move out."

Eric felt like they had just slapped him in the face. "You're kicking me out?"

"Honey," his mom started. She actually had the nerve to look upset. "You are welcome to come over and visit any time you want. That will never change, but moving out is part of growing up."

"As much as we both hate that that time has come, it has," his dad continued softly. "We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't think you were ready."

Eric looked down and gently nodded his head a few times. They were kicking him out. He stood up without a word, refusing to look at his parents, and walked through the kitchen and out the backdoor. He shut the door behind him a little harder than was really necessary. He walked over to the fence on autopilot.

He didn't see Mr. Feeny at first. He wasn't gardening. Eric debated about doing the Feeny call.

"Something bothering you, Eric?" Mr. Feeny said before Eric could decide if it was worth it to do the Feeny call. His mentor and friend was sitting on his outdoor furniture with a glass in hand.

"My parents are kicking me out. I have one week and then they want me out." Everything they went through together, and then just like that . . . .

"Oh, Eric, I'm sure they just want what's best for you." The elder man set his glass down on the wooden table before standing up and walking over to join Eric at the fence. "You're in college. You're an adult. That's what adults do."

Eric sighed and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. "I know, but what if I'm not ready to _be _an adult? I mean, I know other people who commute to college. Why can't I do that too?"

"That's their choice—the students' and the parents'. Neither they nor your parents are wrong. Your parents have merely decided that what's best for you is for you to gain that independence now rather than later. I'm sure they wouldn't be doing this if they didn't think you were ready."

Eric looked up at Feeny at those words, vaguely wondering if his parents had rehearsed this with his mentor. He knew they were right, though. He just wasn't ready to hear it.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

John walked around the classroom, handing all of the student's papers back. Some of them looked happy at their grades, like Topanga. Most didn't look like they cared much, like Cory and Shawn. He didn't miss the slight frown on Dani's face when she looked at hers.

The students all rushed to grab their stuff and leave as soon as the bell rang. Dani was no exception. In fact, she was making a point to avoid looking at the front of the room, ducking her head down and rushing as fast as she could to the door—just like Shawn always did when he was purposely trying to avoid John or Cory or Topanga for whatever reason. He couldn't say he was that surprised.

"Dani, hang back a moment, will ya?" he called out over all the chatter.

The teen halted with her backpack halfway up to her shoulder. She turned around slowly. Her face had that oh-so-annoyingly-familiar almost blank look with just a hint of a glare. He was almost surprised her face didn't just freeze with that expression. She dropped her bag back onto the floor after only a brief hesitation.

John waited until all the other students were gone. He leaned back on the front of his desk and half sat there with his arms folded. "Quite a 'Hard-Knock Life' you had there," he cracked. Her expression didn't change even one bit, except maybe a slightly more intense glare. He shook his head. "Come on, did you honestly think changing the names would make it okay to just rewrite _Annie_ in first person as if you lived it?"

"Did you honestly think I would actually take the assignment seriously?" she shot back. "I can't write about my life, and unless you've blocked out what all happened on the island, you know why I can't."

He just barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "There has to be _something_ truthful you _can _write about."

Dani's frown deepened. "Why don't you just fail me and be done with it?"

"This isn't just about the assignment." He stood up and walked a little closer to the teen. He glanced past her to make sure there was no one standing just outside the door who could possibly overhear. It looked clear. He lowered his voice too, though, just to make sure. "Look, I get that you have secrets that you're not comfortable—" Dani opened her mouth as if to argue. "Alright, that you _can't_ share, but there's more to you than your secrets. I know the Matthews have talked to you about this. I'm telling you now, but until _you_ realize that and redo the assignment, the incomplete stands."

Dani let out an aggravated sigh. John met her glare head on. Not saying another word, Dani just roughly grabbed her bag back up from the floor and left the room in a rush.

John shook his head. He had debated talking to Alan and Amy about this, but that would go over with Dani about as well as a candy ban on Halloween. This was something she would have to work through herself. All he or anyone could do was gently prod her towards dealing with it. If he went to the Matthews about it without first giving her that chance, it would probably just blow up and she'd block everyone out even more than she already did.

Guess he did learn a thing or two from being Shawn's legal guardian.

CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Eric shifted the box into one arm while he opened the apartment door with his free hand. The once empty apartment was filled with limited furniture and boxes and bags. Jack was over in the kitchen area putting some stuff in the fridge. His new roomie looked over at him. They nodded to each other in greeting, then Eric set the box down just inside the door before heading back out. He left the door open for his dad and brother, who were making their own ways in with more of his stuff. Only one duffle bag left in the car, and that should be it.

It was a strange feeling knowing he was moving out of his parents' house, probably forever.

His parents' house. Not his house anymore.

That was going to take some getting used to. He had to admit, though, now that the time had come and he knew there was no turning back, it was pretty exciting. _Freedom_ is what it was. He wouldn't have to answer to anyone except maybe his roommate and if he ever had a girlfriend, then her too. Pretty cool.

He pulled the final bag from the trunk and slung it over his shoulder. He closed the trunk and turned back to the apartment building—to his new life. He let a small smile spread on his face. No idea where his life would lead, but he was finally ready to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

"Spoken Dialogue"

'_Telepathic Dialogue_'

_Thoughts_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Shawn woke up in a cold sweat. He cracked his eyes open. His blankets were tangled around him. He was back in his room in his and John's apartment. The disoriented feeling went away much faster this time. The first few times he had these nightmares, it took a while for him to remember he was back home rather than on the island.

He ran a shaky hand over his face before looking over at his clock. He had less than a half hour until his alarm went off. Even if he could fall back to sleep, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

He reached his hand over to his night stand and pulled his poetry book over to him, turning his lamp on as he did. The black leather cover had certainly seen better days. It was worn and fading in places. Sand still fell out of the book from time to time.

He sat up and leaned against his pillow that he propped up against the wall. The book opened up to almost the right place. He took a moment to glance through his last several writings. They were all about Jack and all Shawn's family issues his half-brother's reappearance had brought back up. Ever since he saw Jack last week, he hadn't thought much about the island. He was so focused on this new current problem. No wonder that nightmare—memory—whatever was so intense. He'd found when he wrote about everything that happened or how he was feeling about it or whatever, he didn't seem to dream about it as much and the dreams he did have weren't as bad.

Forgetting about Jack for the moment, Shawn let all of his fears and issues brought on by that event he doesn't like to talk about pour out on the page. He didn't even write in poetic form this time. It was an all-out journal entry with only the occasional bit that was like a poem. He had several pages filled with a hasty, untidy scrawl before his alarm buzzed and scared the living shit out of him.

He absentmindedly slammed his hand down on the off switch and went back to writing. It wasn't until John knocked on his bedroom door, yelling that he had to get up because it was almost time for school that he finally finished up what he was writing. He didn't put the book back on his nightstand, though. He kept it with him the whole time he got ready, only putting it down when he had to and always within reach.

Shawn bit back a smirk at the annoyed look on John's face when he was finally finished getting ready. Yeah, he guessed he was cutting it really close today. He valued his freedom too much to point out to his guardian that they wouldn't _both_ be running late if John had just driven himself and Shawn walked there like they used to do.

He threw his poetry book in his backpack, slung the bag over his shoulder, and grabbed both the helmet and the granola bar John held out for him.

He had to admit, the mad-dash was so much more fun with the motorcycle.

All in all, they made amazing time—two minutes faster than the previous record. Of course, John did break just about every speed limit there was on the way here . . . .

The halls were deserted when they got there. John practically ran to his classroom. Shawn stopped off at his locker to exchange the stuff he didn't need till later for the crap he needed now.

"Uh, Mr. Turner. I believe you're supposed to be here before the bell rings," Cory's voice drifted out into the hall.

Shawn cracked a smile and shook his head. He could almost see the glare John would have sent him at that comment.

He slammed his locker door shut and grabbed his bag. He walked at a more normal pace than John. He was already late. What difference did it make if he was a few seconds later?

Shawn nodded a greeting to Cory when his friend turned back to look at him as he slid into his seat. John was in the middle of the morning announcements. A bunch of blabber about school clubs and something about the lunch menu. Who really cares?

He pulled his poetry book—now also a journal, apparently—out of his bag. He just barely caught John's look back at him—the one with a questioning eyebrow raised—before he got absorbed in writing again. The one bad thing about John knowing he wrote poetry and stuff as a coping mechanism is he always associated Shawn writing as Shawn having trouble dealing with something. Technically that was true right now, but still. It's like the book was some kind of neon sign for his guardian that something was bothering him. It made it kind of hard to deny it. So far John hadn't questioned him too much about it, but he knew it was only a matter of time. It had been almost two months since they got back from the island. Everyone else seemed to be adjusting back okay. Of course, only Dani and him had to deal with that insane place that he really did not want to be thinking about. Dani didn't seem to be having much trouble dealing with it—not anymore, anyways—but Dani may as well be a category all to herself when it came to weird stuff.

Shawn finished his line of thought and shoved the book away when he heard the bell ring.

"You know, Shawn," Cory said in that trying-to-be-casual-but-failing-miserably tone of his as they moseyed along over to the bench by the lockers, "Eric moved in with Jack this weekend."

Great. Back to this. "Did he?" Shawn asked. He tried to sound as disinterested as possible, which wasn't that hard since he really wasn't very interested. Couldn't he just deal with one issue at a time? Seriously, though—the island crap was a big deal. Why couldn't he just get some time to sort through that before the Jack issue came back up?

"Yeah, he did. That Jack is a great guy, let me tell you."

"I'm sure you will. Look, Cor, I'm _really_ not in the mood to go into this with you, so can you please just drop it?"

His friend let out a big, loud sigh. "Shawn, he's your brother. Don't you want to at least try to get to know him."

"No. Can't say I do."

"You're always talking about how you wish some of your family actually stuck around—"

"Always?" Shawn asked.

"Okay, well maybe not _always_, but I know I've heard you say it. The point is, you have a brother—"

"A half-brother."

"A half-brother who is actually here. I've talked to him. He wants to get to know you. He's just giving you your space since you made it pretty clear you want nothing to do with him."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "At least that's one good thing about him. He can take a hint even when my best friend can't."

"I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy—happy as a freaking clam."

"You don't act like it."

"Well, I was until Jack showed up."

"Maybe if you just give him a chance—"

Shawn bit back a frustrated groan. Couldn't he ever just give it up?

"—you can be happier. Happy as a . . . a . . . ." Cory snapped his fingers in triumph. "A mongoose."

"A mongoose?" Shawn cracked a smile.

Cory shrugged. "Well, it seemed fun to say."

Shawn shook his head. "Whatever." He started walking over to their first class—history with Feeny.

"So you'll meet with him?" Cory sounded so annoyingly hopeful.

"Please—for the love of God—let it go."

Cory huffed beside him. "Fine, then. I'll drop it for now, but I will be bringing it up again and again and again until you agree to it."

Shawn just barely resisted the urge to bang his head off his desk as he slid into his seat.

Feeny stood facing the chalkboard writing out something. Shawn itched to pull his book out again, but Feeny started going on about some group project he was assigning to the class. They were to pick one partner each for it and give a presentation on some old crap that didn't really have anything to do with them today.

As soon as Feeny finished talking about it, Shawn turned to Dani next to him. "Hey, wanna be my partner?"

"Sure."

He caught Cory's slightly miffed look before his friend turned to Topanga. He didn't care. Let Cory be mad at him. Maybe then he would leave him alone.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Dani whispered over to him.

Shawn shot her a confused look before he realized he must have thought that pretty loud or something. Who knew thoughts had volume levels. She had explained to him before that she didn't purposely listen in on other people's thoughts, but sometimes they would slip through her mental shields. He was still trying to wrap his brain around all of that.

"Sorry," she muttered over to him.

"Don't worry about it." He smiled over to her to try to show her there were no hard feelings. "I know you didn't mean to pry like some _other _people."

Dani snorted.

Cory turned around in his seat. "I only _pry_, as you put it, because I care."

"Shh." Topanga glared back at them.

Shawn looked up to the front of the room. Wow. Feeny reached a new level of intimidating with his glare.

"Now as I was saying . . . ." Feeny droned on.

Shawn tapped his pencil against his desk. History class was the worst. He'd grown to appreciate Feeny over the years, but man was he boring. Or maybe it was just that the class was boring. Or both.

He remembered he almost missed being bored back when he was on the island. Boring was at least better than . . . _that_.

Feeny just droned on and on. Shawn's eyes drooped closed. He reopened them and jerked his head as he almost nodded off. Normally he wouldn't fight it. Now was different, though. After the nightmare he had last night, the thought of sleep really wasn't that appealing. It wasn't easy to fight, though. Feeny's lesson was like a sleep aid for him. He should bring a tape recorder one of these days and record Feeny talking. He could play it back anytime he was having trouble falling asleep. He'd be out within minutes.

_Just think of Cory's house. That's all he had to do—just think of Cory's house and all the good times they had there_. _How safe he felt there._

There were so many snakes. Turning back wasn't an option. Goons one and two wouldn't let them. He couldn't stay still forever. Moving forward was impossible. They had to get through this room, but there were so many rattlesnakes in the way.

Shawn took a step.

He heard a rattle.

"Mr. Hunter, I would appreciate it if you stayed awake during my class," Feeny's voice reverberated through the cavernous room.

Shawn frowned. What was Feeny doing there? He was supposed to be back in Philly. Shawn was not . . . .

He jerked when he felt someone shake him.

"Shawnie, wake up. It's time to sleep through bio."

Shawn opened his eyes to see the classroom, with Feeny behind his desk, shaking his head with a disapproving look on his face. Cory was right next to Shawn, with Topanga and Dani waiting behind Cory.

Shawn blinked a few times. What? How—? Was this another trick of that place, or . . . .

'_Shawn, breath. Relax. It was just a dream,_' Shawn heard Dani say in his mind. '_You're back in Philly. We all are. You just fell asleep in class_.'

Shawn swallowed and gave a barely perceptible nod of his head to let Dani know he was back with it. That dream—nightmare—was at least not as intense as the one he had last night. He was woken up before the worst of it could really get started, so that probably helped, but this more than anything else told him he had to make a habit of writing in his journal—poetry book—whatever—about what happened more. Like make that every day—at least once—though make that one really _really_ long writing session if it was only once in the day.

He let out a shaky breath before getting up, grabbing his stuff, and leaving with his friends. He hung back, letting Cory and Topanga walk ahead. Dani hung back with him.

"So, was I thinking pretty loud again or are you just really tuned into my thoughts," he said quietly in hopes they wouldn't be overheard. That was twice in just a short time she knew what he was thinking.

Dani seemed to subtly glance around to make sure no one was close by. It was a school hallway between classes, though, so privacy just wasn't going to happen. She raised an eyebrow. "Do you mind if we . . . ?" She scratched her forehead as if some itch just developed there.

Shawn shrugged, not quite sure why she was asking first. She never did before. Then again, the only times they had talked telepathically were in that—uh—place back on the island and just a few minutes ago when he woke up from the nightmare confused. Those times were a little different than this. "Go ahead," he prompted when she still seemed hesitant to open the link.

'_You were thinking pretty loud, but it's not just that. It's . . . ._' She looked away from him and started towards her locker. He walked with her. '_Act natural_,' she telepathically projected.

Shawn scrunched his eyebrows together. That didn't make any sense.

'_Act like you normally would if we _weren't_ talking, because to everyone else, that's exactly what it looks like. It would be strange for us to just be staring at one another, don't you think?'_

Shawn looked around. A few people passing by did give them some weird looks. He stopped looking at her and tried to casually head over to his own locker. '_It's . . . what?_' He already had what he needed for bio. Oh, well. He was already at his locker and didn't want to look any crazier than he already had. He hoped pretend dealing with his locker looked more natural than it felt.

'_I don't even know how to explain it_,' Dani said. '_Ever since the island, I've felt like there are times you're trying to reach out to me telepathically. I block out what I can, but it doesn't always work._'

Shawn almost dropped the book he was pretend putting away only to pull back out again. '_I'm not . . . am I?_'

'_No, I don't think you're telepathic. It's just like your brain is tuned into mine or something. Maybe a side effect from what we went through? I don't know. This is new to me, too, but I don't usually have telepathic conversations with people so_ . . . .'

He could almost see her shrug. Weird.

'_Maybe it is from my end. I don't know,_' she said.

Shawn didn't think he had ever heard her say . . . think—whatever—the words "I," "don't," and "know" together that many times in such a short time before. He finished pretend switching out notebooks then closed his backpack and locker and walked back over to Dani. He had to pass by Cory and Topanga on the way there. Cory shot him a look. "You okay there, Shawn?"

"Yeah, I'm just—" He made an exaggerated glance over towards Dani and tapped his own head, hoping Cory would take the hint.

"What? You wanna play charades?" Cory asked.

Shawn looked at Topanga. Her eyes widened slightly. "No, honey, I think he and Dani just need to have a—uh—private conversation is all."

Cory still looked confused for a second before his mouth formed a small "oh." "Right. Got it," he said.

The four friends walked to their next class. Cory and Topanga walked together a little ahead of Shawn and Dani again. Shawn was careful to keep looking forward rather than at Dani. '_So what does that mean?_'

'_Nothing, I don't think. Just something to be aware of. I'm sure if you—you know—think quieter or something—actively aim to _not_ let me hear something, then I won't._'

Shawn started nodding his head before he realized that would look really stupid to anyone around them. '_Anyone else's thoughts getting through your shields?_'

'_Some_,' she said. The 'not as much as you' remained unspoken—or thought, rather. Shawn still wasn't sure what telepathic speech would be considered.

'_Do you ever have nightmares about what happened?_' Shawn asked. '_Or—well—any of the shit you've been through?_'

'_Yeah._'

Shawn sat down on his lab stool and plopped his bag down beside him. '_Do they ever go away?_'

In the back of his mind, he heard a faint whisper that vaguely sounded like Dani's voice. It sounded like she said it was hard for them to go away when the waking nightmare never ended. He looked over at her. She was pulling her book and notebook out of her bag. He wasn't sure if he heard right or if that was even her or if it was just his imagination or what. If it was her, he didn't think she meant to project that thought even in the slightest.

'_They'll fade eventually. It'll just take time,_' she projected louder.

He almost wanted to ask her about what he thought he heard, but then he thought of Cory and his constant prying and meddling and any desire to question her disappeared. He knew she had her reasons for keeping her secrets secret. He understood and respected that. He wouldn't push her, just like she didn't push things with him—especially since he was sure she had to have been aware of the whole Jack situation and she let him be. If she wanted to talk about it, he was sure she would eventually.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Boy Meets World_.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

John stared blankly at all the test papers in front of him. He was worried about Shawn. The way the kid had been hanging onto and writing in his poetry book like it was some kind of lifeline made it pretty obvious something was seriously bothering the kid. He had a pretty good guess what it was, though Shawn didn't really talk about it much. John didn't know how to help him with this.

It was an adjustment for all of them dealing with the events of this past summer. John knew he struggled with it for a while. For the most part he had managed to come to terms with it. Shawn had to deal with stuff he himself hadn't, though. He wasn't surprised the teen was having a hard time dealing with it. It did worry him, however, that he didn't seem to be getting much better. Normally he would think counseling would be the way to go, but considering the circumstances of what happened and all the things no one could talk about with anyone outside of their little makeshift "island" family, that wasn't really an option.

He had told Shawn he wanted to talk to him later that evening before the kid went off with his friends. The boy had just nodded and agreed with him. Hopefully that meant he would be open and honest rather than fight John on this.

A knock on his apartment door broke John out of his thoughts. He set his red pen down on the kitchen island counter next to the stack of still ungraded seventh grade English tests and went over to open the door.

Dani stood just outside, with that messenger bag she carried everywhere diagonally over her shoulders. "Shawn and I are supposed to work on a group project. He said we could meet here . . . ."

John stepped aside to let her in. "I think he's at Chubbie's with Cory still, but he should be back soon." He closed the door and turned to face her once she was inside. "So how's your autobiography assignment coming?"

She met his gaze briefly before looking away. "It's not."

John sighed. Speaking of troubled teens . . . . "I'm not going to change the incomplete to an 'F.'"

"Eventually you'll have to."

"Am I assuming right this is still about your secrets?" Her silence and frown were enough of an answer for the teacher. "Dani, I know your secrets are part of who you are, and I'm guessing when you were with the Wilsons they defined who you are, but there have to be parts of your life that have nothing to do with any of that. Just find something like that and write about it. That's all I'm asking for. Like I said before, there's more to you than your secrets." Dani's frown deepened. "Is it really that hard for you to understand and accept that?"

"Is it really that hard for you to understand and accept that it's a lot more complicated than you realize?" Dani shot back.

John glanced skyward before looking back at the teen in front of him. "Are you honestly telling me you've never had even one moment or one conversation that didn't have anything to do with the _complicated_ part of your life? Because I know for a fact you have. There were times back on the island at least, and I'm sure there have been some since."

"It's always an underlying issue. It's never far from the surface and usually does come out in some way in most _meaningful_ conversations—or did you forget that part of the assignment. I mean, it's not always in obvious ways, but it's there even if people don't realize it." Dani's tone was clipped and her face took on a mild version of the expression he dubbed her G.I. Jane look.

"Have you ever thought that maybe the reason it's always so close to the surface is because _you_ can't see past it?"

"How can I when there's _always_ something going on?" Her eyes widened slightly after she said that before she hid everything behind a completely emotionless mask. She avoided his gaze after that—always looking, at closest, just over his shoulder. She didn't try to go back on what she said, though. He figured she must have been smart enough to realize once that was out there, there was no taking it back.

"Is something going on right now?"

She gave a small shrug. "Just routine stuff," she said casually.

John's worry went up a notch. "Define routine."

"It's nothing, really."

"I seem to remember you thinking nothing of _jumping over a waterfall_."

The teen rolled her eyes. "It was better than getting caught."

"Dani," John started, not even sure where to go from here. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Trying to get this girl to open up and admit to much of anything was like trying to break through a brick wall. He had to wonder if Fort Knox even had as many defenses as Dani did. "The point is I can't trust that whatever is going on with you is really not a big deal when your idea of what constitutes nothing is so different from what just about anyone else would consider nothing. Have you at least talked to your parents about this?"

She frowned again. "They're not my par—"

"Have you talked to Alan and Amy about this?"

She looked down. "Why worry them about something they can't do anything about."

"I'm sure they would still want to know," John said. "I know I would want to know if Shawn was going through something even if there wasn't much I could do to help."

She ran a hand through her hair. "The problem is that I can't talk about it. It's complicated. I know everyone gets frustrated when I say that, but it's true. Please just forget it."

John's mind suddenly went completely blank. He frowned as he tried to remember what they were just talking about. He had a feeling it was something important—especially since the expression the teen in front of him wore was pretty intense—but there was nothing. The more he tried to remember, the heavier the fog that settled in his brain seemed to get. "What were we just talking about?" he asked, confused.

Dani looked surprised and then relieved. "Thank you, Mr. Turner."

"For what?" he asked, even more confused. "Seriously, what were we talking about?"

The relief fell from her face. "You really don't remember?"

John just shook his head. The foggy feeling really worried him. What was going on? He focused fully back on the girl in front of him.

He could have sworn she looked scared for a second before her mask was firmly back in place. "Um . . . you were—uh—just telling me Shawn was at Chubbie's and should be back soon," she said.

"Right," he said. "Of course. Just—uh—make yourself at home. I'm just gonna go . . . ." John shook his head again to try to clear it. He dimly heard the apartment door open while he made his way over to the kitchen. He saw some papers and a red pen on the island. What had he been working on again?

"Hey, Dani," he heard Shawn say. "Hey, John."

"Hey," John said back weakly. He swallowed down the slight panic that rose up in him when he realized he didn't even remember ever giving this test. He remembered making it up, but . . . . They were clearly complete, though, so he must have. He grabbed the papers and the pen and left the room.

##

Shawn set his bag down and plopped on the couch, glad to be away from Cory and his meddling. Dani still stood where she was when he first came in. Her face was blank, and she stared at one spot on the ground with her eyes appearing unfocused. "Dani," he said. "You can sit down, you know."

"What?" she said, breaking out of her daze. "Oh. Right." She sat down next to him. "So the project . . . ." She lifted the strap of her messenger bag up over her head, slid her arm out of it, and moved the bag onto her lap. She fumbled with the flap over the opening of the bag and then with the books and notebooks inside.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked over at him, face still blank. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem . . . I don't know, nervous or something."

Dani seemed to steady her hands, suddenly becoming less clumsy. Shawn raised an eyebrow. He knew that trick. Try to act like everything's fine when some sign she isn't is pointed out. He pulled that all the time. He didn't even try to keep his thoughts on that matter quiet, knowing if what Dani told him the other day was still true she was bound to hear them, but he didn't really care.

She looked over at him and sighed.

"I think my powers are getting stronger," she said softly. "Or at least my telepathy is."

Shawn waited for her to continue. She didn't. "So?" he asked. "Isn't that a good thing?"

Dani shrugged. "I guess it could be, but right now it's just—look, can we deal with this project some other time? It's not due till next week, so . . . ."

It took a moment for Shawn's brain to process the quick change in subjects. "Uh, yeah. Sure," he said after a while.

"I think I should probably go then." Dani shoved the stuff she had pulled out of her bag back into it and put the strap back across her shoulders.

"You don't have to leave just 'cause we're not working on the project. We can hang."

"I know and thank you, but I really don't feel good. See you tomorrow."

She sure was moving fast for someone who didn't feel good. "See you," he said as Dani sped out the door.

He stared at the closed door for a while. Even with everything he had learned about her, that girl was still a mystery.

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Alan glanced away from the TV when he heard someone walk in the back door. He felt his wife shift beside him on the couch as she did the same.

"You're back early," Alan said when Dani came into view. "I thought you and Shawn were supposed to work on a school project tonight."

"We were," Dani said. "Something else came up." She stood awkwardly in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. Other than a slight frown, her face was an emotionless mask.

Alan straightened up. He'd come to learn from the time on the island and everything that happened there that it was generally never a good sign when Dani actively hid her emotions like that. He shared a look with Amy.

"Can we talk?" Dani asked after a long while.

"Of course, honey," Amy said. "What's on your mind?"

The teen was avoiding eye contact. Also not a good sign. She hadn't moved from the doorway either. The silence stretched on for a while before she finally opened her mouth to talk again. "I'm w—"

The front door opened. Dani's eyes seemed to shift to whoever came through. Alan resisted the urge to look back to see who it was, sensing whatever Dani had been about to say was important.

"He's impossible," Cory's raised voice sounded from behind him. "He finally has family here who wants to be around him and get to know him and he just blows him off."

"Who? Shawn?" Amy asked.

"Of course it's Shawn? What other 'he' do I ever talk about? Other than Eric, sometimes." Cory had come to stand right in front of the couch.

Alan reluctantly pulled his attention away from Dani and over to his son. "This is about Jack, I'm assuming?" he guessed, having met the older Hunter boy when he helped Eric move into the apartment.

"No, it's about the new grocer boy down at the market." The sarcasm just dripped from his voice. "Yes, it's about Jack."

"I know you mean well, but don't you think it's Shawn's decision what he wants to do?" Amy asked.

"Oh, Shawn doesn't know what's best for him," Cory said.

"Cory, you're his best friend, not his parent. Maybe it's better to just be there for him and at most suggest he think about meeting with Jack but let him decide for himself rather than try to push him to do what you want him to," Alan said.

"Look at Eric. No amount of pushing from your father or I got him to take the SATs again and reapply for college. He had to reach that decision on his own before he would go through with it. And Shawn's a lot more stubborn than Eric," Amy said.

"Oh you're no help. What do you know?" Cory walked away and up the steps.

"Gee, I don't know," Amy called after him. "We're only raising four kids."

"That's getting old, mom."

Alan shook his head. It's like his son inherited the combined effects of his and his wife's control levels and then multiplied it by ten. He turned his attention back over to Dani, relieved she hadn't left. She also didn't make any move to start talking again, though.

"Honey, you were saying?" Amy prompted.

"Never mind," Dani said. "It's not important." She started turning back towards the kitchen.

"If it's important to you, it's important to us."

"Really, it's not that big of a deal."

"Let us decide that," Alan said. "What did you want to talk about?"

The teen ran a hand through her hair. "I've—um—just been worried about that test I took to pass my sophomore year. I haven't gotten the results back yet, and I guess I'm just worried I didn't pass, but I'm sure it's nothing. Just—you know—me worrying over nothing."

Alan's eyebrows rose. He didn't think he'd ever heard Dani ramble before. Rant, yes, but not ramble. That wasn't like her.

"I'm sure you did fine," Amy said. "And if you didn't, then you'll just study some more and take it again. We can even help you, if you want."

"Yeah, you're right. Thank you." The teen turned to leave again.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" Alan asked. He ignored the look his wife shot him. He knew they had talked about waiting for her to come to them with whatever she may or may not still be going through and letting her tell them on her own terms, but technically she did come to them. She just changed her mind about what she was going to talk to them about. Somehow he doubted she was that worried about a test.

"No. That was it." Dani gave a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Like I said, no big deal." She left the room. He could faintly hear her footsteps go up the stairs.

"What happened to waiting for her to be ready to talk to us?" Amy asked.

"She was ready. I was just trying to nudge her back in that direction after all that stuff about the test."

"She obviously wasn't ready or she would have still told us. She needs to know she can come to us about anything without us interrogating her about whatever she's still not sharing."

"How was that interrogating? I just asked her if she wanted to talk about anything else."

Amy sighed. "With as much as she guards her secrets, it could seem that way to her."

Alan had already shared his thoughts on that matter and knew he was fighting a losing battle. When it came to Dani, there was this fine line between when pushing the issue was needed and actually worked and when it just pushed her further away.

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Shawn took a deep breath and worked up the courage to knock on John's bedroom doorframe. The door was open, but he never felt right just walking into his room. It's not like Cory's window or anything.

John had told him earlier that day that he wanted to talk to him. Shawn had a pretty good idea what it was about, since the older man's eyes had followed Shawn's poetry book as he shoved it back in his bag after English today. At this point, he just decided he wanted to get it over with. He wasn't thrilled about the idea of talking about any of it, but he also knew his guardian was worried and maybe talking would help. Who knew?

"John?" he called when the man still seemed lost in his own world, staring at some papers in front of him with a red pen in hand.

The man looked up at him after a moment. "What's up?"

"You said you wanted to talk?"

John's forehead creased. "I did?" His voice was soft and small sounding. "I didn't happen to say what I wanted to talk to you about did I?"

Shawn stared at him a moment. "No, you didn't. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, It's probably nothing," John said. He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself just as much as he was Shawn. "Don't worry about it kiddo. As for whatever it was we were supposed to talk about, I'll remember eventually. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Shawn said. He left John to himself, feeling a little uneasy. That's two people he cared about acting off in one night. Was there a connection or was this just a really bad night or something? Shawn shook it off. It had to just be a coincidence. What else could it be, really? He didn't even want to think about all the possible answers to that question. Now knowing supernatural stuff existed and having experienced dealing with that firsthand, he knew there were any number of answers his imagination could come up with and most likely plenty of others that were even beyond his wildest dreams—or nightmares.

John had to be right. Whatever this was, it would be fine. Just a weird night, is all.


End file.
